Disorientated
by HR always live on
Summary: Set S8 with a loose plot! Ruth wakes up completely unaware of where she is and what's happened to her. Can Harry explain? Hopefully more interesting than that! Chapter 6 up.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm trying to get back into my fanfic writing, so I thought I'd post this before any of the rest of this story is written. Set around S8, with quite a loose plot, it's more an excuse to throw Harry and Ruth together.**

 **Ruth**

I wake up, and I can feel my head pounding, absolutely throbbing in my skull so I keep my eyes closed. God, I have never had a headache like this. Slowly I move, pinching the bridge of my nose as I test out the rest of my body. Well, at least nothing else hurts. I open my eyes and freeze. I don't know where I am. I'm in a bedroom that's not my own and I have absolutely no idea how I got here. Trying hard to fight off the panic, I sit up in bed and look around, trying to recognise something. I don't. It's a neat, tidy, rather large bedroom but with nothing personal in it at all. Nothing to indicate anything about where I am or what I'm doing here.

My head still hurts a lot, but I try and put a sequence of events together, and I can't. The last thing I remember is being on the grid, preparing for an undercover operation. My memory is foggy at best, but I think I was accompanying Harry to a Home Office event to… try and find a mole? I'm not at all sure, and that worries me. I can't be sure of anything and I have no memory of anything at all after leaving the grid. What the hell happened? How can I have no memory of anything at all?!

Moving slowly, so as not to jostle my throbbing head more than necessary, I pull back the covers and swing my legs out of bed. I find I'm wearing a large T shirt and not much more which sends a thrill of foreboding through me. I'm terrified of my complete lapse of memory. I don't drink enough to have black outs ever, and I _never_ drink when I'm on an operation. Have I been drugged? That seems possible. But it's incredibly frightening. As the thought occurs to me, I search my arms, looking for a puncture mark. I find one on my left bicep. Shit. So I'm guessing I have been drugged with something which would explain my lapse of memory, possibly?

Ignoring the pain in my head, I get up and go downstairs, carefully and quietly. About halfway down the stairs I recognise the house and I realise I'm at Harry's. While this lessens the fear that I've been taken against my will because I'm a spy, it brings up many more questions than it answers. At the bottom of the stairs I can hear Harry on the phone and I have a brief moment of worry about only wearing a large T shirt, but that's immediately swamped by the desire to have some answers, and the fear about my lack of memory.

I go into the kitchen and he turns to me, almost instantly putting the phone down.

"You're awake," he says, and even though I'm confused and more than a little angry, I can't mistake the relief in his voice.

"Harry, what's going on?" I ask, working hard to keep my voice level. If I don't stay calm, I'll shout and scream, and that wont get me any answers.

"You don't remember?" he asks, frowning at me.

"No!" I shout. "What am I doing in your house and what the hell happened?!" I don't mean to lose my temper, but I can't help it. I'm confused and upset.

"We were on an operation," he says calmly. "We were trying to determine the Home Office mole. We'd been at the event about half an hour, forty five minutes maybe when you were injected with something. You collapsed against me and…" he pauses for a moment. "You've been unconscious for 36 hours." That is much longer than I anticipated and I have nothing to say. "I'm… very glad you're awake." He turns away from me to open the kitchen cupboard and he fills a glass with water while I think of something, anything to say.

"You should drink something," he says. "You'll be dehydrated." He hands me a glass of water and I drink it. I hadn't realised how dry my mouth was until I started and within a few seconds the glass is empty. "You don't remember anything?" he asks. I look at him and see his hazel eyes looking intensely into mine. I think back through blackness.

"No," I say. "Not since leaving the grid. I just… there's nothing there." He looks disappointed, just for a split second, but then its gone. Why disappointment? What've I missed? What memory that should be there has gone?

"We worked out that Manners was the mole," Harry says slowly. He's obviously leaving out how we worked that out, but right now that isn't important to me. "He was just leaving the main hall and I was going to follow him when you collapsed. I… my attention was no longer on him. Which I'm sure was the intention."

"But why me? Surely he didn't recognise me?"

"No, but he recognised me," Harry says. "I think the idea was to keep me occupied while he escaped. "

"Did it work?" I ask out of curiosity. For the first time since waking up, I'm curious about something other than how I got here. How much did my falling unconscious affect Harry?

"He'll be under lock and key by this evening," Harry says firmly, both avoiding my question and answering it at the same time. So he let Manners escape. The thought is a comforting one, though it probably shouldn't be.

"What was I injected with?" I ask. "And why am I in your house, rather than a hospital?"

"It has a long chemical name that Malcolm told me but I can't pronounce," he said. "Basically it's a sedative but you were given an unusually high dose which could have been… dangerous. No," he adds, seeing my face. "They'll be no lasting effects. And I thought it better that you be somewhere other than a public hospital. I don't know how many people Manners has working for him and I preferred you safe until he's caught. Maybe I'm being a little paranoid but I didn't like to take the risk."

I smile slightly which makes my head throb. For the first time since coming downstairs I'm aware that I'm wearing little more than a large T shirt and I feel suddenly shy and embarrassed. I'd been too desperate and confused, finding out why I'm in this situation to bother worrying before.

"Do you have any of my clothes?" I ask, trying not to blush.

He pauses for a moment before answering, his eyes sparkling. I hope he's not laughing at me. "There's a holdall at the bottom of your bed. It's got your clothes in it."

"Thank you," I say.

"Drink," he repeats, refilling the glass for me. "And take it easy today."

"I will," I say. He looks at me like he doubts it, and I leave the kitchen, taking the glass of water with me.

* * *

 **The first person narrative was successful last time, so I hope this is still enjoyed. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Harry**

She doesn't remember anything about that night. I feel hollow. As if someone's punched me in the gut. I know that her lack of memory is due to the drugs that were in her system but that doesn't make it any easier to bear.

 _"Are you ever going to kiss me, Harry?" Her shy smile as she takes my hand in hers, not caring that the eyes of the grid are on us, no longer afraid to show affection in public. I kiss her and the feel of her soft lips against mine…_

But no. All of that has gone wiped in the haze of chemicals going through her bloodstream. It's no good trying not to be disappointed, because I am.

"Get a grip, Harry," I say to myself. "She's alive, that needs to be enough for now." She'd had her hand resting on my arm when she'd jerked, and promptly collapsed to the floor, fear on her white face and her breathing heavy. In that moment, when I was panicking, I thought she was going to die. I had no mind to follow Manners, I had to stay with Ruth. She'd lost consciousness very quickly, and I knew she'd been injected, but I didn't know with what. Or what the effects would be. All in all, a sedative was quite a mild option, and I'm very glad it wasn't any worse.

After Ruth had collapsed, Lucas and Ros had tried to follow Manners, but it was too late and he'd vanished. Ever since then, we'd been trying to track him down and we are close to finding him. But I feel both foolish and guilty that I led Ruth into that trap. She could have died and it would have been my fault. It was foolish to let the lure of spending an evening in her company overrule my common sense and to stop watching for every possible danger. I let myself become distracted by her smile and her blue eyes, rather than watching as I should have done. It may not have made any difference in the long run, but I feel guilty.

After it'd become clear that Manners and whatever accomplices he'd had had long since vanished, I insisted that Ruth be taken to my house. The paramedics had given her the once over and determined that she'd been given a strong sedative. I used my status as head of section D to insist that I didn't feel she was safe in a hospital. Honestly, I didn't. These people work for the home office, so they could get to her in a public hospital. The paramedic agreed reluctantly, but insisted on taking some of her blood for testing and coming back with her to make sure she was okay for a few hours. I agreed, and after a few hours observation, we were left alone. I didn't get any sleep that night. I didn't let myself because I needed to see she was still breathing. It was probably insanely stupid not to let them take her to a hospital, but I couldn't. Not until Manners was safely in one of our holding cells.

I turn as Ruth comes back to the kitchen, this time dressed. When she had first emerged, upset and disorientated I had made a mental effort not to look at her legs. She was so clearly upset, this hadn't been particularly hard, but I am slightly resenting the missed opportunity now, as her jeans cover her legs completely. "I just grabbed anything at your flat," I say in explanation for her clothes. "I hope it's okay."

"It's fine," she says. I'm glad to see that she's calmer.

"How are you?" I ask.

"I feel… my head hurts," she said. "And I'm starving."

"Let me take you out for lunch," I say. "There's a nice café around the corner." She frowns at me slightly and I realise I'm being too familiar. It's a result of what she said and did at the Home Office reception, that she no longer remembers. She kissed me first, otherwise I'd probably never have taken the initiative. "If you'd like to, that is."

"Yes," she says and I smile slightly. "Look, I have an awkward question." My smile fades. "How did I get into that T shirt, when I seem to remember I left the grid wearing a black dress? Unless my memory really is taking a massive detour?"

"Yes," I say, answering her unasked question. "I did get you changed. I just… wanted you to be comfortable and I didn't… I didn't…" I tail off because I cant find the words. She's looking down at the floor and I can tell that she's embarrassed. There wasn't anything untoward about it, I like my women to be conscious but I don't know how to say that without causing more discomfort for us both. "I'm sorry. Let's go and get something to eat. I'd offer to cook, but I think you've been through enough this week without subjecting you to my cooking."

A smile twitches on her lips, much to my relief. "Yes, lunch sounds great."

"Good."

* * *

 **More soon. I don't know where this is going, so we'll just wait and see! Thank you for the reviews for Ch 1.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the reviews so far. I'm trying to get back to writing, but it's proving a struggle which is why this chapter was delayed, sorry! Anyway, enjoy.**

* * *

 **Ruth**

Lunch with Harry was incredibly uncomfortable. I couldn't stop thinking of Harry undressing me, without me being conscious to remember it, and the awkwardness showed. We ate quickly, and before too long I was making my excuses and going home. Harry looked sad, even though he tried to hide it. I could see it in his eyes. I'm desperate to know what I've missed and by the time I get home, I have a plan.

I make sure all the doors are locked, and check the house, just to make sure everything is as I left it. Everything is, and my cat also has a full food bowl. I wonder if Harry fed him, as I've been out of it for 36 hours.

I sit down at the kitchen table, with my laptop and phone, then I call Malcolm.

"Yes?"

"Hi, it's Ruth," I say.

"I heard you were awake," he says, clearly pleased. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I say, though my head is still throbbing. I really should take some painkillers, but the idea of willingly ingesting more drugs doesn't appeal to me right now. "Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favour?"

"Of course," he says.

"Can you send me the CCTV of the reception?" I ask. "I want to see for myself who injected me with that concoction."

"Yes, of course I will," he said. "We have already apprehended him, we're just waiting for Manners now."

"No, I know you're on top of it," I say. "It's really for my own curiosity and peace of mind."

"I'll send it over," he promised.

"Thanks Malcolm."

Once the phone call is finished, I link my laptop to the grid. By the time I've done this, I have access to the files. I smile at Malcolm's efficiency. I open the CCTV files of the Home Office reception, wanting to know what I've missed. I do want to know who poisoned me, but that's not the most important thing. Clearly something between myself and Harry went on that night, I just have no idea what, and I really want to know. It takes a while to see myself and Harry on the computer. I watch it in real time rather than fast forwarding anything as I have no idea where Harry and I came in, or what we were doing. I don't want to miss us. So I spend a good fifteen minutes scouring the crowd of overly dressed guests before I spot us coming through the left doorway. I wore black, which isn't great for standing out on the camera feed.

The volume isn't great and is just a babble of mixed voices so I have no chance of hearing what we're saying, but I watch myself hold on to Harry's arm, and he's smiling at me. Not a polite smile, nor a fake one. It's a warm one that meets his eyes. We walk across the hall and I swear under my breath as I have to change camera feeds. It takes a few moments for me to bring the footage on camera B4 to the moment we entered the second, larger room.

What I see surprises me. Harry and I are close. Very close. He's looking at me the way I always wanted him to, the way I thought he could, when our glances were held for a few moments too long. It's hard to see on the camera feed, as we're not the mean focus, but it looks like Harry leans close to me, to either whisper something in my ear, or to smell my hair. I'm so upset with my own memory. I have a great memory usually, and the one time I'd have loved to have relive my memories of one night, there's nothing there. Then I'm left speechless. I see myself grab onto Harry's jacket, and kiss him. Not a gentle peck, but a full on kiss. I know my jaw's hanging slightly open, but I cant tear my eyes away from us. Why would I do that? How did I become brave enough to do that? Clearly a conversation or more has happened in between us leaving the grid (which I remember) and turning up on the CCTV feed here.

I keep watching, but nothing of more interest happens before I see a man brush by me, hitting me with the needle. I buckle and Harry catches me before I hit the floor. I cant see Harry's face on the camera, just his figure leaning over me, and the scene we're making, attracting a bit of a crowd. As I see both Ros and Lucas rush past myself and Harry, presumably to follow the man who drugged me, I close the video feeds down. I no longer need to watch.

I wish I could remember what was said, what made the change in our relationship happen to that extent. I long to kiss Harry, of course I do, but to do so like that, in a place where everyone we work with would have been watching on the cameras? What made me so bold? I'm more frustrated than ever, but I'm most annoyed because I cant remember the feel of Harry's lips on mine. And that is something I want to treasure.


	4. Chapter 4

**So, this chapter has an awkward ending, but I've been struggling with how to finish this installment! Hope you enjoy anyway and thank you for reading and reviewing so far.**

* * *

 **Harry**

I turn into Ruth's street and pull the car to a stop, wondering why on earth she wants to talk to me. She called me at nine this evening and she sounded slightly… odd. I doubt she's remembered what happened, as the doctor said that concoction is likely to have removed her short term memory of that day permanently. Which is inconvenient for me to say the least. It may be selfish of me, but I wish she could remember that night. The feel of having Ruth in my arms, to really feel like... for just a little while that she was mine.

I'm sitting in the car having switched the engine off, thinking hard. I don't realise how long I've been sitting here, just staring into nothingness and thinking of Ruth until I hear a rap on my window. I jump and turn to see Ruth looking through the passenger window at me. I roll it down and see her smiling at me slightly.

"You can come in," she says. "I don't bite. You've been sat here for a while."

"Sorry, I was… thinking." She smiles and turns away into her house. I follow her into her kitchen.

"Tea, coffee?" she asks. "Wine?" I notice a bottle of white wine on the table but if I'm driving home I probably shouldn't have a drink.

"Tea, thank you," I say. She makes my drink and the room feels very quiet. Even though we're in London, there feels to be no noise outside and I feel suddenly awkward.

"Why did you call me?" I ask when she gives me my drink, and we sit opposite each other at the kitchen table. She takes a sip of wine and I automatically check the level in the bottle. More than half there, so unless she's on the second bottle or more, she isn't drunk. "Do you remember anything?" I'm not hopeful, but I ask anyway.

"No," she says. "But I… I had Malcolm send me the CCTV of the Home Office reception. And I've watched it. Harry… what did I miss? Just tell me."

I smile at her, a slightly sad smile. And I tell her.

* * *

 _Everything had been normal until we left the grid. We had about an hours drive as the home office reception was in one of those large country houses politicians have to boost their ego. We'd been sat in the back of a black car, being driven towards the reception when she sighed, leaned her head against the car seat and looked out of the window._

 _"Are you all right?" I asked._

 _"No," she said bluntly. "No, I am not all right."_

 _"What is it?"_

 _"Are you ever going to kiss me, Harry?" She turned and looked at me, her eyes more open than I've seen them in a very long time. She seemed completely oblivious that the driver could hear every word._

 _"I wasn't aware you wanted me to." I knew my voice had dropped lower, but I couldn't help it._

 _"Harry… you're not that oblivious." She leaned over and kissed me. A simple gentle touch of her lips against mine. I'm too surprised to move and she turned away from me when I didn't react. "Well, it seems that I've just embarrassed myself," she said, looking away from me and out of the window. I know without being able to see her properly, that her face will be red._

 _"Ruth, I…"_

 _"Just forget it," she said._

 _"Will you look at me for three seconds please?" I asked. It took a moment, but she did turn to me, looking hurt. I stroke her face gently before kissing her tenderly. She kissed me back wonderfully and it felt like a long time before we came up for air._

 _"You took me by surprise," I said. "That's all." And I kissed her again. Her hands clutched me to her and we're pressed together wonderfully. Ruth's dress was only knee length, the shortest thing I've ever seen her wear and I can't resist sliding my hand up her thigh, feeling her soft skin beneath my fingers. I've wanted to touch her like this for so long. She moaned into my mouth and I can feel myself losing control. I stop kissing her, but keep my hand on her thigh, unable to bear not to touch her._

 _"I can't," I told her. "I just… can't do this here. Not now, when we're on an operation and I can't… give you the attention I so dearly want to." I stroke her tangled hair back behind her ear and stop touching her completely. I don't trust myself._

 _"This won't take long," she said. "When we get there, it'll be what? An hour before we find our Home Office mole?"_

 _"Something like that," I replied, unable to see where she's going._

 _"Well, we could spend the rest of the evening in private…" her eyes are incredibly bright, and I know her. I know this would have taken a lot for her to say._

 _"What has gotten into you?" I asked._

 _"I'm just tired of waiting," she said. "I wanted something to happen between us and.. I'm tired of waiting Harry." I lean over her and kiss her very gently. She smiled against my lips and I don't want this car journey to end, though I know we're close to the reception. I take her hand in mine as we go up the driveway._

 _"We will continue this conversation later," I tell her._

 _"Good. I can't wait."_

* * *

"We weren't really paying as much attention to the operation as we should have been," I say. "I couldn't take my eyes off of you. I blame myself for you being injected with that and… had it been worse, I would never have forgiven myself."

"I've watched the CCTV, Harry," she says. "It wasn't all you. I was very… distracted by you, too." She's looking down at her wine glass, but she's still smiling, which I take as a good sign.

"I know it's selfish, but I so wanted you to remember." Then I do what she did that night. I open my mouth and speak honestly. There is so much between us that's always left unsaid and I don't want that to continue indefinitely. I want her, I want more. I want a proper relationship. "I don't want that to be the only time I get to hold you. I don't want that to be the only time I get to kiss you. I want more with you, Ruth."


	5. Chapter 5

**I might be getting near an M rating with parts of this chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing so far and I hope this chapter is enjoyed.**

* * *

 **Ruth**

I'm glad he's told me the truth. It doesn't feel impossible, and I know I could have said those things to him. The last thing I remember is going through the folders of information on the grid before leaving for the operation, feeling frustrated and upset by how Harry was treating me. With complete professionalism and detachment. Before Cotterdam happened, we'd certainly have brushed fingers when passing files, and he usually took the opportunity to stand too close to me, closer than was really necessary. All those little things, a look held too long, the tone of his voice changing, all those things that made me believe I was more than a work colleague. But since I'd come back to London, back to work, it's not been the same. He's been maintaining his distance, even though I know the attraction is still there. I can always feel the pull, as if I'm being drawn to him. But it's not the same. I remember feeling frustrated that he hadn't so much as glanced at my legs in the black dress I'd chosen for the occasion. So what Harry's just told me doesn't surprise me as much as I think he was expecting.

"I don't want that to be the only time I get to hold you. I don't want that to be the only time I get to kiss you." His voice is a low murmur, and it makes me shiver. I adore hearing his voice like that.

"I don't want that to be the only time either," I say. "For one, I'm not going to be able to remember it, and that… is very disappointing." He smiles slightly and I feel a lessening of tension inside me. I slowly reach across the table, my palm facing upwards, a silent invitation to him. I'm very pleased when he takes the invitation, but he doesn't hold my hand. Instead he traces the lines on my palm very gently, sensually. God, just one touch from his finger has me shivering. What would it feel to have his hands on my body, sliding under the fabric of my clothes, caressing my skin?

"Open your eyes," he says. I don't realise they're closed until he says that, and I do, looking at him. I know I'm blushing, I can feel the heat on my face. I stop his teasing touch, simply by turning my hand over and squeezing his. Our eyes don't leave each other, until he sighs and lets go of my hand.

"I'm going home," he says, surprising me.

"Why?" I ask.

"Ruth, I…" he closes his eyes and shakes his head, getting up and turning away from me. I can see the thin cotton of his shirt moving with the muscles of his back and shoulders, and I suddenly want him so badly that I ache with it.

"Please don't leave," I say, getting up as well. I walk over to him and put a hand on his back. I can feel the strain he's under, but I don't know what he's worried about, what he's fighting.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"I don't…" he sighs again, turning towards me, his body very close and a potent look in his eyes. He leans forward and presses a very gentle kiss to my lips. Slow and so wonderfully soft. "I have to go home, because if I don't I'm going to end up ravishing you on the kitchen floor."

I think about it for maybe five seconds before I speak. But really, there's not even a question for me.

"Don't go home, Harry."

* * *

It's late and I'm so hot that I open my bedroom window, to let the fresh cool air in. My skin is so flushed and I'm so sweaty that the burst of cold air from the window is very welcome. I'm wrapped in Harry's shirt and nothing else, and I feel almost bruised. His hands have touched every part of me, I can still feel the imprints of his fingers all over me, the pressure his lips made on my thighs, the echo of his touch on my chest. I can feel it all as the cool night air hits my body.

The lights of London look beautiful tonight. Or maybe I'm just in the frame of mind to appreciate the sight of London right now. Because at this moment I feel peaceful and content, as my mind repeats the memories of just an hour ago, the way Harry made love to me. I want to appreciate it, I want this burned into my memory permanently.

He'd been more vocal than I'd expected. His voice had been low, seductive and demanding. _"I need to touch you." "Open your thighs." "Look at me, Ruth." "I have to taste you." "Turn over."_ I smile to myself, remembering. I have always wanted this with Harry, I've always wondered what it would be like, were we to ever become physical and I'm so pleased that I now know.

I hear Harry move, the bed springs sighing as he gets up. I don't turn around, but I feel him standing directly behind me, almost able to feel the heat of his body.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly.

"Yes," I say surely. "I am."

"Are you… regret…"

"No," I cut him off. "No. I don't want you to think that for a moment." At that, he touches me, wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing my neck briefly. I sigh, looking out over the London landscape. "I'm just thinking."

"About what?" he asks, before planting another kiss to my collar bone.

"I'm an analyst, Harry," I say gently. "I have to think about things. It's just who I am."

"Okay," he says. "I meant… more specifically."

"I'm thinking about us," I say. "With us it's usually one step forward, two steps back. I can't quite get my head around the fact that we've…"

"Had sex," Harry supplies.

"Mm." I smile at him, and a faint answering smile appears on his lips.

"Just stop before you get to the part where you start thinking this is a mistake."

"I wont think that, Harry," I say. "I've wanted this for such a long time. That thought isn't going to enter my head, I promise." He gives me a soft kiss and turns to get back to bed.

"Just don't forget about this. I don't think I could bear it were your memory to… disappear."

"As long as I stay away from crazy men with syringes, I think I'm going to remember this," I say happily. "Though we could have fun if you had to remind me occasionally. His eyes seem distant for a moment before he speaks.

"You look... good in my shirt," he says before getting into bed. I close the window and follow suit. As soon as I lie down his hands are on my body, rushing over me and making me sigh with bliss. I love feeling his sure and talented hands on my bare skin, I need him to touch me like this. How I've lived without this for so long, I've no idea.

"Oh Harry…" I hear myself sighing.

"I love hearing you moan," he says and I laugh into yet another kiss. After that we don't speak for a long time.


	6. Chapter 6

**I've had a stressful week, so sorry for the delay on this one! Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Harry.**

It's been an awfully long time since I've woken up feeling this complete, this at peace. I keep my eyes firmly closed, because I know from past experience that this blissful feeling won't last long once I start the day. I can smell her scent over the bed sheets, I can hear her quiet breathing as she lays next to me. I can feel the slight dip in the mattress on her side of the bed, under her weight. I can't resist and I reach towards her, my hand meeting her naked thigh. I stroke her skin softly, remembering the feel of her legs wrapped around my waist. I've fantasised about it, usually when I was in the shower, but I thought it'd never actually happen. Now it has, I'm holding on to it.

"Morning," she says quietly. Her voice is husky and I smile, finally opening my eyes. She looks beautiful, her hair tangled and her eyes bright. She's yet again wrapped in my shirt which is now incredibly creased, but I don't care. It looks wonderful on her.

"You look so gorgeous," I say, kissing her. It's a lazy, good morning kiss, and she smiles. "And you look happy," I add. "You should smile more."

"I am happy," she says. I don't think I've ever seen her eyes that bright.

"God, I don't want to move," I say. I don't. I know that the wonderful last few hours are going to be coming to an end very soon. We'll get a call from the grid, and our tiny piece of paradise will be over. I look at the clock on Ruth's bedside table. 7:45 am. I sigh heavily, as I expect that the grid will be calling any moment now.

"That was a heavy sigh," she says, worry on her face. "Are you…"

"No, I was just thinking that… we're going to have to get to work soon. And I don't want to." Her toes start stroking my calf lightly and I quietly groan at the sensation.

"I know," she says. "I know we have to move, but…" She doesn't finish her sentence but she doesn't need too. I know exactly what she means.

My phone rings from across the room, somewhere on the bedroom floor where it clearly fell while we were busy ripping each others clothes off. I don't answer it, but we both sigh and slowly get out of bed. Sadly, the real world is still out there.

* * *

"Do you want a lift?" I ask, trying to be casual as I button up my hastily ironed shirt. My car's outside and I know how long it'll take if she wants to use the tube during rush hour, but I'm not going to pressure her. If she doesn't want it to be public knowledge on the grid that we're sleeping together, then I can't insist on it. Personally, I don't care who knows what. Ruth makes me happy, and I wonder why that can't be enough. It's more than enough for me.

"Yes," she says after only a few moments pause. I try to keep the smile off of my face as she grabs her keys and we leave her house.

* * *

I park the car and turn the engine off. I hear Ruth sigh and neither of us show any desire to leave the car. To let go of the last twelve hours and to be drawn in to the stress of the grid is not what either of us wants.

"Have dinner with me tonight," I say. "I don't want… I want more, Ruth. I don't want us to forget about last night and… I'd love to take you out to a restaurant, have a nice meal."

"That sounds wonderful," she says. I smile with relief.

"I'll book in to The Five Fields."

"Oh you'll never get in there," she says. "Not on such short notice."

"The maitre'd owes me a favour," I say. "It wont be a problem." She smiles widely at me, then before I know it, she leans over me and presses a kiss to my cheek.

"Stop looking at me like I'm going to run from you," she says. "I am not. I'm not going anywhere. I like this. I like us."

"You can't blame me for being worried," I say.

"No, I don't," she says softly. She squeezes my hand tightly. "Maybe after dinner we could go back to mine again," she says, almost shyly.

"I like that idea," I say. I kiss her again. We're only interrupted when my phone rings, and I know we have to get on to the grid.

"Come on," she says. "Back to the workhouse."

* * *

 **I think I only have the epilogue to go after this. Thank you for reading!**


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